Toe Hair

When you were 16 did you have toe hair? Well, neither did I and I never dreamed that when I hit 50 shaving my feet would be added to my morning shower ritual. Since we are discussing hair in places where it doesn't belong how about those chin hairs? What is up with that??? Every night before I go to bed I wash my face with an over priced, over promised, wrinkle reducing, puffiness eliminating, eye brightening magic soap followed by an equally over rated under performing night cream. After the cream has been slathered on I lean in REAL close to the mirror, twezzers in hand and check for the dreaded chin hair. Nothing, smooth as a babies bottom. The next morning after my feet have been groomed and my teeth brushed (or my teeth groomed and my feet brushed) I take one last look for the chin hair and OH MY GOSH.....that's not a hair, it's a rope! Where do they come from? NOTHING the night before and the next morning there is something growing out of my chin that appears long enough to anchor a small ship. I'm surprised it didn't wrap around my neck and strangle me in my sleep. Anyone who doesn't believe God has a sense of humor died before they hit 50.

For $10.00 I will give you my Dr.'s phone number

It just keeps getting better and better. I tell you what, for someone who has NEVER had any health problems this whole neck/back thing is a real kick in the head. I wore my loose clothing this morning for my nerve receptor test (just like the instructions said to do) and as I was signing in the receptionist told me the test was canceled but the Doctor wanted to discuss my MRI. Well....I am no rocket scientist but ya gotta know that ain't good! Soooo, I cooled my heels in the waiting room and flipped through a 1991 Newsweek magazine. You will be happy to know that Ross Perot is neck and neck (pun intended) with George Bush, Sr. and newcomer former governor of Arkansas Bill Clinton. Finally Dr. Jordan appeared and he was just a wealth of good news. I have one bulging and two herniated cervical disks, advanced arthritis and severe narrowing of the spinal cord. Apparently the only things I don't have are an ectopic pregnancy and athletes foot. I am now scheduled for another MRI with contrast on Tuesday morning but at least I will be sedated for this test. Not sure why, don't care why just bring on the medication. Here is the real kicker. I made the comment that I guess now was the time to get this weight off and my hand to God this is what he said, "Absolutely NOT, do not change one thing." OK, he said other things too that weren't so pleasing to hear (like possible paralysis) but I gotta tell you...I have no idea what this office visit cost but that one sentence made it worth every penny.

Where were you on Sunday February 9, 1964?

Anny, Bev Parrot and I were at Carol Limoge's house watching John, Paul, George and Ringo's first appearance on Ed Sullivan and from that day forward we love loved LOVED The Beatles! I still remember Anny and I walking home that night in our bermuda shorts and knee socks . We crunched our way through the frozen snow discussing which Beatle was the cutest. Paul, of course...DUH. Anny and I had made a pact before school started that year to wear shorts all winter. Drove our mothers crazy but we (and our red chapped knees) made it until spring. We even ice skated on Harrisons pond in our berumuda shorts and thought we were quite the rebels. That was also the winter that I drove my grandfather's 1962 black Chevy Impala (two door hardtop with a red stripe and red interior, the coolest car EVER) right through the back of the garage. For some reason their garage was built almost a quarter of a mile from the house at the end of a long gravel driveway. The high point of my day was when my Poppy came home from the store and he let me put the car in the garage. I had been parking the car very successfully for almost a year and I still don't know for sure what happened but I am guessing I hit the gas instead of the brake. It was a looooong walk back to the house to tell my grandparents that not only was their car behind the garage instead of in the garage but the garage now had an entrance AND an exit plus a slight tilt to the left. Fortunately Poppy was a Democrat so the tilt to the left was just fine with him.

Eccentric or just plain nuts?

We love Aunt June but to be perfectly honest she has been a bit different her entire life. Until I was an adult I would have sworn her full name was "Poor Aunt June" because that is all I ever heard her called. She is my fathers sister and the last sibling of three boys and three girls. The other sisters and brothers were all reasonably normal with the exception of a TEENY BIT of alcoholism and a questionable marriage or two. Aunt June didn't marry until she was in her 50's and her husband passed away in the early 90's so the only family she has left are nieces and nephews. For the past 10 years or so she has complained about the neighbors stealing the foundation of her house one brick at a time and she also was convinced that an entire family was living in her attic.
LOU:"Aunt June what makes you think there is someone living in the attic?"
AUNT JUNE:"Because I can smell bacon frying."
LOU:"Umm, ok..Aunt June what did you have for breakfast?"
AUNT JUNE:"Same thing I always have toast and bacon."
Bang, bang, bang...the sound of Lou banging her head on the wall.
It was also about this time that we found out Aunt June had a gun.....she shot holes in the ceiling of the dining room and right through the roof. It's not like she is nuts all the time, sometimes she is perfectly lucid but the nuts part has slowly become the norm. About the time she shot down the chandelier my cousins and I decided it was time for her to move to a nearby senior citizen apartment complex....we also took the gun. Three of the six nieces and nephews (Karl, Lisa and Chris we can hear you laughing) moved Aunt June from her home of 30+ years to a duplex and then six months later we did the move all over again when an apartment opened in the senior citizen complex. Lou and I decided that Aunt June had read (probably in the National Enquirer) that empty Cool Whip containers are the currency of the future. Every cabinet we opened rained Cool Whip containers upon our heads. She lives on the 5th floor and insists there is a peeping tom. My feelings are if she is on the 5th floor and there is a peeping tom then he should be pretty darn easy to spot. Aunt June is upset with me and won't call me or accept my calls but she still has her bank statement sent to my house because homeless people come into her apartment at night to sleep on her couch, ransack her papers and steal her food. Sooo, when I opened her bank statement today there were the usual checks written to Publishers Clearning House, Readers Digest Sweepsteaks, The Good Word Sweepstakes and here is the new one...The Amazing Kreskin. This woman is sending over $100 a month to The Amazing Kreskin. Lord, Lord, Lord....brace yourself kids, this is my gene pool.

Goodness gracious, I have an "oughtabeen" haircut.

An "oughtabeen" haircut is what my friend Barb calls a bad haircut because it looks like it "oughtabeen" on a dogs butt. I have such colorful friends. Let's just say my hair is a bit on the short and spikey side but two good things about my hair is it will eventually grow out and it sure won't take long to dye...I mean dry!
Good golly Miss Molly it is hot and humid today. Sid and Debi have arrived safely in the Keys and I cannot begin to imagine how hot it is there. They have the most beautiful tomato garden in town and wouldn't you know as soon as they hit the Myrtle Beach city limits their plants started producing ripe tomatoes at an alarming rate. Oh darn, hate that. In case you haven't figured this out yet I am having a tomato sandwich for supper. Heck, I MAY have two sandwiches! In my book there is nothing better than a fresh tomato sandwich with lots of Hellman mayo.
My arm/neck/shoulder are feeling better. The only medications I am taking are 2 regular Ibuprofen in the morning and one 800 mg Ibuprofen before I go to bed. If I have to go back to the pain meds then I will but for now I am able to manage fine as long as I wear my collar and sling on a regular basis. Hopefully I will hear from Dr. Jordan regarding my MRI tomorrow and my first pain receptor test is in his office on Friday.

Shhhh....I played hooky.

Yep, I did. I stayed home from work and it was a real Betty Crocker day around here. The high point was trying out my new vacuum cleaner. PARTY DUDE! I always said my next vacuum would be a rider. This one isn't a rider but it has to be the next best thing. I tied a concrete block to Ginglebelle and Morty's tails so they didn't get sucked up the hose. OH...I also did three loads of laundry AND made egg custard. HOLD ME BACK!

Little Frisky is not long for this world.

Little Frisky is my fish and he lives very happily in his very own fish bowl on my kitchen counter along with a partially submerged peace plant. Little Frisky didn't have a name until the Montana grandchildren were here last week and decided he needed a name. He was just THE FISH. OK, this is disgusting but it's the truth so here goes. Ginglebelle refuses to drink out of her fresh clean water bowl on the floor but she will risk breaking her neck to jump on the counter to drink out of the nasty fish bowl. The kids thought this was hysterical and decided THE FISH was seconds away from being cat food....so hence the name, Little Frisky. Well, Little Frisky and Ginglebelle have a good relationship. Ginglebelle jumps on the counter, Little Frisky heads to the bottom of the bowl, Ginglebelle gets a drink, jumps down and Little Frisky comes back to the top of the bowl. Now Morty enters the picture. Morty's legs are less than two inches long so jumping on the counter is not something I thought I would ever see him doing, until today. Morty discovered that if he climbs up the wicker chair leg to the back of the chair he can leap to the top of the bar (knocking my crystal wine glasses over) and then jump over to a bar stool which will put him inches from the kitchen counter. Life as Little Frisky knew it is now over. I walked into the kitchen just in time to see Morty sitting on his stubbly little back legs (like a rabbit) trying his best to catch Little Frisky with his front paws. The bar stools are now in the closet. Honest to goodness, I feel like I have a toddler in the house again.